


Anniversary

by Findarato



Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 08:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7259422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findarato/pseuds/Findarato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Why is a human heart capable of loving one more than once, loving more than one person, and unable to forget all it has loved? </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> I realised that I never posted this outside of tumblr lol; I had reasons for not posting it at first but I've forgotten why. Maybe editing.

_**Anniversary** _

Sometimes, Shuusuke thinks having a calendar in Sakura is almost worthless. They don’t have weekends, they just have breaks in between missions. They don’t have celebrations, just a graduation if you’re lucky to be alive. Not even ages really matter. Just know the days of the week was basically enough for them. But force of habit keeps him on a calendar, and he remembers his birthdays, other people’s birthdays, the day he joined Sakura...and the day Sakai died.

It’s not that he wants to forget Sakai, but remembering is hardly unpainful, especially when he didn’t have a proper farewell. He can still remember opening his mouth to form an explanation, and Higayama shooting Sakai without a word, and then him getting hit in the head. No burial, just a short memorial and then they shoved him right back into the system. He remembers those days, and how heavy and slowly the time passed. Any time he shut a door on the world, all he had wanted to do was read to distract his mind, or close his eyes and attempt to sleep.

But it’s over now. He’s with Souma, and Souma…well, maybe he has better luck. Maybe he’s a little more resilient. They made it through the incident with the terrorists, and it’s been months…and he still has Souma, now.

Sometimes, he wishes in life, a person is only capable of loving once, and one person. Why couldn’t fate be the thing to bring people together, keep them together, and let them die together? Why is a human heart capable of loving one more than once, loving more than one person, and unable to forget all it has loved? He’s not even one for sappy things like that, but now, it seems as if he’s incapable of keeping himself away from the need to love.

The day starts ordinarily enough; Eiri’s yelling wakes him up and he stares at his phone until the date registered, and he almost drops it when setting it down, stomach twisting and whatever he had been planning to say to Souma was forgotten.

At the sound, Souma sits up and asks him what happened.

Nothing, he had replied, when he picks his phone back up.

_ Except that some things, when you remembered, they still hit you as if it had happened yesterday. _

They got sent out to take care of some stray hijackers that made it out of a plane alive; it was some hours out in the countryside and he had mostly ended up listening to Haku and Eiri arguing about something and Souma putting in comments; the helicopter was loud and drowned out most of his thoughts.

Most, not all.

Shuusuke fell to reminiscing about his old job as a prosecutor, and how these rides had been so common. Especially the last case, when he lost his partner. He hadn’t been able to say goodbye then, too.

In fact, he might’ve not had the chance with Souma either, if he had been too late in coming for him.

_ Maybe I’m just terrible at preventing deaths. I stand there watching them happen, or I’m too far away to help. _

So he stares at his faded reflection in the glass until they land, and then pushes all the thoughts out of mind.

**.**

When he wakes up the second time that day, he’s not in his room. No, this is the infirmary, and the clock on the far side of the wall reads 23:37. His mouth is dry, his head hurts, as do other parts of his body, the more he gains consciousness. He turns his head to see Souma in a chair, head and shoulder pressed to the wall as he sleeps.

He looks closer, to make sure the other is fine, and is gratified to only see one small bandage on his cheek. Only then does he examine himself. He’s not hooked to anything except a heartrate monitor, and he considers turning it off in order to leave. But as he sits up, his ribs protest and he winces, trying to ignore it long enough—

“Shuusuke?”

Startled, he turns his head to see Souma out of the chair and reaching for him. “Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting up.” And leaving for his own bed, because he’s just a little bruised and knocked around.

“You shouldn’t. They want you here until tomorrow morning.”

“Are you making sure I stay?”

“I figured you’d wake up sometime during the night.”

“I see.” He feels the bandage on his forehead. “Did we complete the mission?”

“Yeah; we got them all. Two died, the others were all taken in.” Souma drags his chair closer. “You’re the only one that ended up here.”

“Is that so.” His back hurts too; it felt like he got walked on. “I’m glad no one else was hurt.”

“I was hoping no one got hurt.”

“Are we ever that lucky?”

“Heh.” Souma snorts. “No.”

Shuusuke picks at a corner of his blanket. “You could’ve left my phone here and I’d have let you know when I was awake, so that you could be sleeping in a bed.”

“And miss having you there? Nah. Besides,” Souma prods him in the arm. “When I was stuck here, you stayed.”

“That was different.”

“Not really.”

“You got shot.”

“Oh, please. Getting shot, getting shoved down a flight a stairs—so what. We both ended up here.”

He cringes. It was so stupid, what had happened. He’d lost his concentration and gotten shoved hard, and taken a tumble down the steps and smacked his head into the wall, he presumes. And only now, he’s woken up. It’s stupid to the point of being careless, because  _ stairs _ . Who trips like that. Who fucks up like that. If he hadn’t been distracted by the communicator in his ear because Souma was struggling with someone, he would’ve taken the guy out, and been to Souma’s aid. But no, he froze and the moment of hesitation nearly cost him.

A touch on his hand brings his awareness back to his Messiah. “Yes?”

“You look…troubled.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just thinking about how stupid I was today, with how I handled it.” He grimaces. “Ichijima-san won’t let me hear the end of that.”

“Yeah, he’ll chew us both out. But it’s not like we failed.”

“He’d be disappointed in our performance.”

“I’d like to see him handle just  _ walking _ up a flight of stairs,” Souma mutters. “Can you imagine him taking an elevator trying to capture people?”

He shrugs. “If he had to…”

“Yeah. But that’s not what is on your mind, is it?”

“On my mind?”

“You didn’t say much today.”

“Are the thoughts in my head measured by how much I talk?”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean that when you got up this morning, you weren’t looking at me.”

Shuusuke blinks. “I wasn’t looking at you?” he repeats, and then he wonders if Souma knew.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” Souma glances away, and then back. “Usually you’d be doing something people call ‘checking the person out,’ which I don’t mind, but today you seemed really lost.”

Ah. He works his throat and comes up with nothing.

“It was today, wasn’t it.”

He nods.

“I didn’t realise it until I got you back here, and then I was talking to Haku and I…realised it.” Souma rests a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s not your fault.” This isn’t anyone’s fault. In fact, he’s still not sure why he fully feels this way. Souma’s hand doesn’t move off his shoulder, and he doesn’t move away from it.

“Why didn’t you mention it earlier?”

Shuusuke starts to shrug, then stops because it pulls at his ribs. “It’s not like they would have given me the day off for an anniversary. For all practical purposes, it doesn’t even matter if I had past Messiah.”

“Yes, but this is about how you feel, not what Ichijima doesn’t feel.”

His stomach twists and he’s sure the headrate monitor, loud and annoying, is picking up everything. “It doesn’t matter though.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t care?”

“No. It’s just that it’s the past, and nothing can be done about it. What good would it be to think about a failure, and to make everyone feel miserable? No one likes to dwell on the past.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“Point?”

Souma touches his chin, and then lifts it up a little. When Shuusuke raises an eyebrow, his Messiah shrugs. “The shadows on your face make you look…sad.” Those fingers are warm against his skin. “Point is, it matters that it still bothers you, and I noticed because when you’re worried, you end up not really looking at anyone or anything. You just…seemed really disorientated.”

His exhale comes out in a rush. “A little.” What Souma says isn’t wrong; he can feel it of himself. But because he tends to be serious around others, it’s not like most people see any further than that.

Souma isn’t other people, though. And the fact he’s here, hand on his face, it makes his throat and chest ache that has nothing to do with his injuries. “I think most of the time, everything is fine, but today…” he shakes his head. “I remember everything too well. And I think about how a few months ago, that could’ve been you.”

Attachments, they anchor you to the world, but that could also isolate you. “I miss him. I wish I could’ve told him things before he died. I wish it had ended differently.”

“Me too.”

“But,” he continues, trying to sort through the fragments in his mind that have been forming ever since this morning, “If all that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have you. And you…you’re something I’m grateful for.”

This whole year, Souma’s been good to him. Even before they kissed. Even before they made certain promises. He’s come to appreciate so many things, and laugh again, trust again…and love again.

_ It’s complicated, _ he wants to say.  _ And I don’t know how to explain it. _

“Heh.” Souma drops his hand, and then tugs Shuusuke towards him. “I don’t have everything figured out either, but I feel the same way about that. About this.” Arms pull him closer, until his chin bumps into a shoulder. “I should’ve asked you this morning.”

“I should’ve told you this morning.” If that meant inhaling Souma’s scent, feeling him breathe, and the comfortable weight of his arms against him. The only think to make this better would be if that stupid machine weren’t beeping in the background. “I’m not used to…grieving with another person.”

“Same…”

A year is both a long and short time of understanding a person, and he still feels there’s so much of Souma he doesn’t know about. But here, like this, he wants to know more. Wants to see more.

And he wouldn’t mind Souma seeing more of him, bit by bit. Shuusuke presses his own hand to Souma’s back and squeezes, the fabric shifting in his fingers.

“Hey,” he says, something occurring to him. “I don’t look at you like I’m checking you out. Where did you get that idea?”

“You totally do.”

“Even if I did, it’s not my fault you…look really good.”

“Thanks~”

He buries his nose against Souma’s shoulder and breathes out noisily. “Show-off.”

“I feel so appreciated.” Souma drags a hand through his hair. “So appreciated that I want to kiss you.”

“Really?”  He’s cursing the heartrate monitor machine again; it betrays his thoughts, after all. “Well, you can if you want.”

“All right.”

He makes a soft sound when his chin is lifted again and Souma presses lips over his. There’s something really soft about all this. Maybe it’s the low, yellow lighting and how it softens everything in the room to a warmer glow, and also because this is Souma—who is even warmer and brighter. Souma, holding him and keeping a hand rubbing down the side of his neck as he kisses him until they pull away, and Shuusuke almost wants him to continue.

“Thank you,” he says, once he can speak again.

“But…you’re the one who let me kiss you?”

“Yes.” The thank you was for a lot of things. He touches his mouth, remembering the touch of a few seconds ago. “I let you.”

Souma suddenly laughs. “I’m  _ really _ tempted to take you out of here, just so we can sleep in the same bed or something. The atmosphere here is all wrong.”

“I’m not against that…” Their beds were more comfortable, and the thought of sharing a bed tonight is tempting. “But the nurses would panic.”

“I’ll leave a note.”

“It’d be irresponsible.”

“I think you’ve been responsible enough for today, Shuusuke.” Souma is leaning towards the machine. “You can afford to be irresponsible one  _ night _ .”

Indeed, when was the last time he’d slacked off on anything? Not to mention tomorrow they’d have to deal with another day with Ichijima. He looks at Souma, at the monitor, and then he reaches over and shuts it off, pulling the pulse reader off his finger. “You can explain to the doctors tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Souma is scribbling on a piece of paper.

“And to Ichijima.”

“Sure.”

“…why are you so agreeable?”

“That’s ’cause I get to carry you.”

“What? No, I’m walking. I can—”

“Too late.” Souma’s pulled the covers back and hoisted him up. “It’s not even that far, so don’t complain.”

“I’m more worried about what people will  _ think _ .”

“I’m your Messiah. I’m allowed to do more terrible things than that. Although,” Souma grins while he begins to walk, but there’s no teasing in it. “I promised you we’d wait.”

It still means a lot to him, that they’re waiting. He doesn’t fully understand himself when he’d asked for that, but…to see Souma still agreeing, honouring it…he feels grateful. Grateful and relieved, as he puts his head down Souma’s shoulder and watches the walls go by them.

From all the things that went wrong during this time with Sakura, to have something do write, to have someone who has moved past barriers and can read certain things about you without dropping your feelings all over the place, and handled the same loss, the same sadness…

It helps. He still remembers Souma’s first attempt to talk to him, and how he’d brushed him off. But Souma had persisted, and Shuusuke…he knows he’s not all that great at letting things go, or even speaking about them. Souma’s always been patient for the explanations—he’s content to wait, content to stay…and content to his Messiah.

“You’re too good to me.”

“Because seeing you smile makes me happy.”

“…does it?”

“Yeah. Your smile is…beautiful.”

“Is it?” He’s too tired to object too much. “So is yours.”

Their laughter echoes in the hallway, and he finally feels like some weight has been lifted. Not off his heart, but his mind is clearer, and he’s able to look at Souma once again without feeling like he’s forgetting the past.

They’ll make it to graduation, he decides. Not just for the promises they made, but for their Messiah that had died. One way or the other, they would.

_**.end.** _


End file.
